The Tails of Crookshanks, Ginger, and Bushy
by Miss Kisharoo
Summary: Crookshanks knew something weird was going on, but he what he didn't know was that it was this horrible! Ginger has become mates with his beloved Bushy – his Bushy! – and Crookshanks, the smartest cat in England (and maybe the world), is going to do something about it.
1. Fishiness

**CHAPTER ONE: **Fishiness

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Greetings. I'm Crookshanks. Forgive me for the improper introduction, but I'm just itching to get to the main story – and if you're wondering how I'm going to _tell_ this story, well… let's just put it as my fair Bushy does: My intellect knows no bounds.

I'm sure that you know who Bushy is? She has delightful, fluffy brown fur, which is why I named her Bushy. She's quite fun – but lately it's been getting harder and harder for me to make her read my absolute favorite book, _The Tails of Beatles and Barks_, which is, after all, delightful. Although there is an error: Beatles don't have tails.

But you still look confused… Oh, yes, you _are _a muggle, aren't you? Do I _have_ to put everything in your terms? To get my point across, I guess I will. Her _muggle_ name is Hermione, but, since I adopted her, I think it is proper that I dubbed her Bushy. Is that simple enough for you?

Ahem. Shall we start at the beginning?

It was a nice, warm day and I was lounging gratefully on my wonderful climby-toy. It's enchanted to never get hard and it's a perfect place to look for juicy mice outside. Oh yes, this day was more than nice – it was wonderful… but one thing was missing to make my day exquisite: Bushy.

For quite awhile I thought that she was in one of her reading moods (though, in my defense, I _was_ growing rather sleepy), but after another hour I decided that something was up. See, when Bushy gets into one of her reading moods I, as a good owner, have to sit on the book and make her sleep.

So, stretching, my luxurious fur gleaming after its good wash over, I pranced curiously towards Bushy's room – and my orange eyes widened. I was shocked by what I saw. My pet's usually spotless room was now almost covered by heaps of clothing!

How impolite, how obscene, how _unacceptable_!

It was my job, and my job only, to fix my pet's errors, so I began to prance into the room – but, try as I might, heap after heap of clothing was making it hard to get there quickly. I grew angrier and angrier, the fur fluffing up on the back of my neck. Then, seething, I hissed loudly, my fur puffing out as I did. There was a rumble, and suddenly, a clothes-slide!

I yowled for help and began to leap up to a standing pile but, though I admit to not being as young as I used to be, it was apparent that the falling clothes were faster.

Dresses of silk… shirts of cotton… jeans of rough denim… you name it, it was on me. I snarled and spat, scratching and kicking at every inch of clothing that I could find, when, finally, my savior arrived.

Bushy, with utmost concern in her voice, squealed, "Crookshanks!" and was rushing to my aide. I could hear other piles of clothing falling but finally, after a long wait, her perfumey hands closed around me and I was freed. She placed me on the bed where I gave her a good, hissy-spitty telling off. My fur was on end more than it had ever been by the time I'd finished with her – and let me tell you, she looked sorry.

"Oh, Crookshanks, I'm so sorry."

I sniffed but encouraged her to go on.

"Does this look good on me?"

I'm sure that, although I'm a very civilized feline, my jaw had dropped at that moment. Where was the petting, the cuddling, the millions of apologies? Merlin's cat, where were the sardines?!

Yet it wasn't a joke. When I walked to the edge of the bed to get a good look at her face, I saw that she was particularly flushed and that her bushy brown hair was braided. While she would always be beautiful in my book, my Bushy didn't look bushy anymore and that just wasn't right!

"Crookshanks?" She looked at me eagerly but frantically, pointing to the dress in front of her.

I stared at her sourly, walking back and forth atop the bed. With a cold kitty frown, I turned and sat down, my back to her.

"Is it that bad?" Bushy squealed instead of rushing to me, which was what I'd been hoping for. "Oh God, there's nothing good to wear! Nothing looks right on me!"

I sniffed. In my opinion, Bushy was always pretty (even to cat standards) and anything would look good on her; however, I preferred her in casual wear or, better yet, her Hogwarts robes.

As I mused on how wavy and soft her hair would be just out of its braid, Bushy was having a mini-panic attack behind me. Finally, my love for her winning, I turned back around and watched her go through the piles on the floor, where she hoping that the perfect outfit would appear.

Do I have to do _everything_?

Smelling the air, I hopped down from bed, scratched a hole into the pile of clothes that I chose, and dug out the jeans that smelled most strongly of her. I decided that this was what she must have worn for a majority of the day, so, my eyes adjusting to the dark "cave", I pulled out that nice little stick of wood and jumped back onto the bed. Mewing loudly through the wand, I managed to catch Bushy's attention.

Bushy finally saw me and ran over, wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug. Though I felt like my eyes were going to pop out of their sockets, I couldn't help but think, _Now that's more like it. _Then I closed my eyes with pleasure as she gently slid the wand out of my maw and waved it masterfully. A sea green shirt appeared and stretched out in front of her. Then she turned back to me.

"Crookshanks, how does it look?"

I meowed neutrally.

"Would I look too _desperate_ in it, though? I want to look like the occasion isn't really _too _special…"

This time I tilted my head in confusion.

Desperate? Special? And what was this occasion she was talking about? Was it Christmas?

Then there was a squeal from Bushy which, frankly, hurt my ears. Someone had knocked at the door, which had prompted Bushy to pull on the shirt quite a bit more frantically than she needed to. That, may I add, nearly resulted in her tripping and breaking her ankle.

She is smart, though, because, thinking quickly, Bushy waved her wand and the clothes returned themselves to their proper positions. Then she ran into the living room.

Calmly and curiously, I sauntered on after her. By the time I had gotten there, Bushy had already opened the door and – get this – was _locking lips _with Ginger (A.K.A Ronald "Ron" Weasley). Whatever this ritual was, I didn't like it. They looked like they were about to _eat_ one another or something else vulgar, and I'm not a fan of cannibalism, thank you.

But once I ran up to their legs, my claws outstretched, just waiting to sink them into Ginger, the door had already closed right in front of me. I hissed and spat, completely forgetting my usual calmness and etiquette, protesting at this absurd behavior with every ounce of myself… yet she didn't return right then and there to answer to my face!

The outrage!

Oh yes, I knew something fishy was going on, even then, and I, Crookshanks, the most intelligent cat in England (and maybe the world) was going to find out what one way or another!

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**AUTHOR NOTE: **Greetings all! Kishy here (although, on second thought, you probably don't know who I am), debuting one of my newest, relaxed, and silly stories. This will have quite a few chapters, and although I don't know where it'll go, let's just say that Ron won't be happy. Not in the slightest. MWAHAHAHAHA! Ahem. So anyway, this will follow Crookshanks as he investigates about Hermione and Ginger's courtship - and let me tell you, he's not going to like it. Not one bit! Anyway, even though I'm going to have fun with this, to say that it's relaxed for me is a lie. Actually, this is my first "first-person" fanfic in quite a while, so I'm challenging myself just a bit so that I can keep myself diverse. Anyway, I'll shut up now and get to the point: I'll try to provide another chapter soon! Keep in mind that I have a life and a varying muse, however :) Reviews, constructive critiscism, favorites, and follows are highly appreciated! Thank you so much for reading!

**DISCLAIMER: **All characters in this fanfic (Crookshanks, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley) are copyrighted by the wonderful J.K. Rowling, without whom I wouldn't have a wonderful outlet for my need to write :)

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_"Mischief Managed"  
_~Kishy


	2. AN: Dearest Followers

Life is just a killer, isn't it? I'd know. Well, this is an author's note from your author (me). Life has just bit me in the rear yet again. Currently, I'm in a challenge that I need to finish (for myself) that won't be done until March 4th, 2014. It's a fanfiction challenge, and, paired with my life and other writings, it is going to make me _extremely _busy and stressed. Thus, I'm putting all fanfics on a hold. Well, not a hold, but on the backburner, and I'm telling you guys this because my updates will not be coming as quickly. That does not mean that I won't post until March 4th of next year. It simply means that my updates will come sluggishly until I finish my current projects, and I felt that I should tell you this. I apologize!

But when I come back, I hope to post two chapters to make it up to you all.

Thank you so much for waiting this long. Please stay with me until I can start posting like you ask!

- Kishy :)


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